


Lie to Me

by wrongstation



Category: Project Runway (US) RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 02:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13917774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrongstation/pseuds/wrongstation
Summary: ...this little hurt/comfort scenario had reversed roles somewhere along the way, back and forth so much that he wasn't sure who was hurting and who was comforting.





	Lie to Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was written back in 2006 - I haven't edited anything since then.

"You're out."

Tim's stomach dropped to his feet and he had to reach for the curtain to support himself. He couldn't honestly say that he was surprised by the decision, but he was most definitely upset and put off by it. In particular, the comments that Santino's collection had been poorly made had seemed particularly harsh and untrue to him, and he very much disliked the fact that Santino had been the first of the three eliminated. He would keep his opinions on the matter to himself, but there was one particular designer who he had been very unimpressed by who should have gone first, but the judges had obviously been on a different wavelength that evening. He couldn't begin to imagine how it had to have felt to be on such a high and have it ripped away so quickly, especially for someone like Santino who always felt everything so intensely. Of course, there was a swell of pride when Chloe was announced the winner, but it was shadowed by the ache in the center of his chest that wasn't going away.

Quietly, he moved away from the curtain and waited patiently in the wings as Chloe celebrated and her family was brought out onto the runway. He simply observed everyone within visual range, watching Daniel's fake smile desperately try to become real, Chloe's mother begin to cry with pride, but his eye kept straying to Santino, who was being comforted by his model and his own mother. He could already see that the attention wasn't rubbing Santino the right way, and Tim knew from his experiences with the man that he didn't take rejection particularly well. There was a period where he simply needed to sit alone and sort through everything in his head, and it was something Tim respected because they had that in common. 

What broke Tim's heart was that none of the judges sitting in those chairs would ever truly understand Santino the way he did. They would never be able to have that experience on Venice Beach, sitting at sunset and talking about all the insecurities and fears in Santino's heart. He held that time to be very precious, and he felt himself tearing up as he thought back on the subdued and sad man that had sat across from him. At least then there had been some hope for the future -- a showing at fashion week and hopefully a win in the competition to jumpstart his career. Tim had no doubt that Santino was going to go extremely far in the business, but his fear was that now Santino would start to doubt himself, and that was probably the worst thing that could happen.

Now came the part that Tim knew was going to be very uncomfortable, especially the exit interviews. They had to clean up their workspaces from the Banana Republic workroom, get everything out of the tents, and prepare to go home. For Chloe, he was sure that she'd be walking on air too much to notice the hassle, but he knew for Daniel and Santino that it was going to be frustrating. Quietly, he slipped out of the hustle and bustle of crying models and families, searching out the familiar faces of the previously eliminated contestants. They were all loitering around the halls, hoping for some word about what was going on, but Tim didn't feel it his place to inform them. Instead, he sought out Diana, Nick, and Andrae, asking them politely yet firmly to head back to the tents and collect the belongings of the final three. There was no hesitation or reluctance, and they all took off, eager to be of some help. Everything was to be returned to Parsons, where Tim planned to store it and have it ready for the contestants to pick up at their leisure. He was hoping that they'd be allowed to return to the hotel and sleep before being forced to pack up everything out of the workrooms, but he knew how difficult and finicky the producers tended to be.

The cameras were no longer rolling that he was aware of, because everyone was packed into one room to either celebrate or commiserate as the case may be, and so he went to the first of the producers that he could find. Deftly and without any doubt that he thought his wishes were the most beneficial, he expressed a desire to let the contestants return to the hotel and rest before pushing them to get their designated spaces cleared. Thankfully he wasn't forced to put his foot down, and after a brief pow-wow with the other haunchos in charge, his suggestion was cleared. He felt good about doing everything in his power to make them all more comfortable, and he knew that even more prominent in his mind was making sure that Santino took care of himself.

Santino. It always came back to him. From the beginning of the process, he felt like he'd taken more of a personal interest and investment in Santino, although he'd done his best to remain professional and impartial. Everything from the impressions to the alone time they'd spent together in California had really touched him and endeared him to the younger man, and he'd gotten a good idea of just how Santino worked. There was the very curious side of him that enjoyed exploring human nature and wanted to poke around more inside Santino's head, and what he'd seen so far only made him want to go farther and poke deeper. He took a moment to himself out in the hall, resting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes as he searched deep for a little composure. Going back into that room and wearing his heart on his sleeve and sympathy for Santino on his lapel wasn't exactly professional, and until they were out of Parsons, that's exactly how he had to be. 

The other designers would be returning at any time, so he went up to the Project Runway workroom and made sure that the door was unlocked so that they could leave the dresses and materials up there for the other contestants to come retrieve at their discretion. He'd been able to buy them until morning, and he felt good about that. It was enough time for them all to regroup, he thought. The mood was much more manageable when he went downstairs again to find the final three, and he informed them of the extra time they had to regroup and relax. Chloe hugged him excitedly, and of course he smiled and congratulated her on her win, and he was happy to see that Daniel's smile was much less fake than it had been a short while ago. The sting of losing seemed to be at a more tolerable level, which led him to... Where was Santino? Daniel must have noticed him looking, because there was a gentle nudge to his shoulder and then a long finger extending towards the corner. There, behind the door, curled with his back pressed against the wall was Santino.

He hadn't thought it possible for his heart to sink any lower, but in that moment he felt it plummet to his toes. Santino's mother wasn't there any longer, and neither was Heather. It was Tim's guess that Santino had sent them away and requested to be alone, but there was something so broken and forlorn about the man that Tim felt his worry start to replace his sadness. Attracting as little attention as possible, he made his way over to the wall Santino had backed himself against and crouched down. "Hide and seek?" he said, his voice quiet so as not to be heard by anyone other than who his words were intended for.

Santino looked up, and although it didn't look as though he'd been crying, he looked on the verge of doing so. "Hey, Tim." 

"Can I interest you in coming out?" There was something about his words that almost made him feel as though he were speaking to a toddler, and he hoped they hadn't come off that way to Santino, so he quickly followed them up with something to take away any condescending overtones. "I'd like to congratulate you properly."

That was met with a snort, and Santino's eyes were hollow as he blinked back at Tim. "I lost." Regardless, he slowly unfolded his long limbs, and Tim moved back accordingly to give him room to get to his feet. He stepped out into the clearing of the room, and Tim quickly enfolded him in a hug. It was tight and gripping, and it quickly felt like Santino was latching on to him and clinging as if Tim were support that Santino desperately needed. He clung back without reservation, not caring at that point whose eyes might have been on them, because the cameras were off and he could feel the raw emotion of someone in need, and he couldn't help but respond to that.

"I don't know if you heard, but you won't have to clean up your spaces until tomorrow, and I sent Andrae after your things at the tents," he murmured against Santino's shoulder, his fingers gripping the fabric of Santino's tried and true green jacket. "You will have to give an exit interview, but I'm sure it'll be brief."

For a moment, there was no reaction from Santino whatsoever, but he finally spoke after a light sigh. "Thanks, Tim." It was sad and quiet, and the sensation of wanting to weep that he'd described just a couple weeks ago returned in full force, and he tightened his grip on Santino for a moment longer before reluctantly releasing him and stepping back to look up into the now-familiar face. Before he could make any further remark, Santino was sighing again and running his hand back through his messy hair, his eyes across the way at Chloe who was now on her phone, calling God only knew who. "I don't want to go back to the hotel with them tonight," he said, closing his eyes tightly and rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

Tim couldn't imagine anyone wanting to step back into that particular lion's den, and he knew that the other two weren't likely to have a whole lot of compassion. Yes, Daniel had lost as well, but Santino had been eliminated before him, and that was likely to be a subject talked about over the breakfast table that morning. Before he had time to think about it, Tim was speaking. "Go do your exit interview, and then come back with me. I have a spare room, and you need to decompress." Now there was something the show would frown heavily on, but he wasn't going to waste time dwelling on the ramifications now. He was concerned, and he preferred to have Santino in his sight as much as possible until the man came out of the funk that losing had thrown him into.

He could see the hesitation in the other man's eyes, and he hoped that Santino wouldn't read it the wrong way. He wasn't trying to be inappropriate, and he hoped that he hadn't blatantly crossed the student/mentor lines, but his concern had outweighed his discretion on the matter. "Okay," he said finally, rolling his lips together before nodding with what looked like a little more conviction. "Okay. I'll meet you... um. Where am I meeting you?"

"The lobby," Tim said immediately before moving to Santino's side and gently ushering him towards the door. "The quicker we can get out of here, the better. Go, go." He didn't want to run into the situation of the other designers asking Santino if he was ready to leave, and he figured out of sight out of mind was probably the best philosophy for this particular instance. After Santino was out the door and on his way to do his interview, he turned to Daniel and Chloe and made sure they both knew about their belongings being stored in the upstairs workroom, and after a hug to them both, he excused himself for the night and made his way down to the lobby to wait. His mind was working the entire time, shifting and playing with possible scenarios, ways he could make Santino's sort of grieving process a little easier to deal with. Life would go on, and it would probably take Santino no time at all to bounce back, but he knew the next twenty-four hours were critical and he wanted to be there for the first few.

Only a few minutes went by before the elevator doors opened and Santino stepped into the lobby, looking tired and worn, his coat thrown over his arm. He slipped into it as he was walking, and Tim could see the same apprehension returning to his features. "Tim, are you sure me staying with you isn't a problem? I mean, I'm grateful, but…" 

It was a little strange. He understood that, but he'd hoped that the appeal of getting away from the others for a while would outweigh the potentially awkward overtones this situation might have. "If you aren't comfortable, I'm more than understanding of that. However, I assure you that the idea is fine with me, and I wouldn't have suggested it if it wasn't. As I said, I have a spare room and blankets, and plenty of food. You won't be putting me out in the least." He was going to more trouble for Santino than he would for his other students, but it always came back to the bond that he felt between the two of them. He had no doubt that Santino would have extended a hand to him if their situations had been reversed. 

After another moment of deliberation, Santino nodded and rubbed his hands together. "Okay. Let's go." 

Tim had the means to live in very high-priced settings, but he hadn't opted to do so -- at least not by his standards. It wasn't Park Avenue, but he thought his place had a certain charm to it. His taste was simple, and he felt that what you did with a space was worth more than how big it was. It wasn't a long walk from Parsons to his apartment, and it was spent in relative silence. By the time they had exited the elevator and were standing in front of Tim's door, however, Santino had relaxed enough that Tim didn't feel like he was dragging along an unwilling party. "It's kind of weird that I'm going to see where you live," he commented as Tim unlocked the door, but he didn't hesitate before following him inside.

Part of him wanted Santino to be impressed with his environment, although he wasn't quite sure why. It was always nice to know that people you held in high esteem were pleased with the various aspects of your life, and Santino was definitely someone he loved and cared about very much. "It's nothing spectacular, but it's home." He moved through the house as though Santino were already familiar with it, not giving anything resembling a tour, just heading through to the spare bedroom with Santino in tow. "The sheets are always clean, because you never know when company might drop by," he said as he leaned down to fluff a pillow. The bed was just a double, but it was enough for one person to sleep in without a problem, even someone as tall as Santino. 

"Thanks so much for this, Tim. I feel like I haven't slept in a year." And he looked like he hadn't either. The circles under his eyes were becoming more and more pronounced, although Tim wasn't convinced that was entirely due to fatigue. 

"Please, don't mention it. I'm happy to help. You should get something in your system before you sleep, though. Take off your coat, make yourself comfortable." He was sliding out of his own coat as he said that, leaving Santino alone in the room and walking back through to the living room where he hung his own coat on the rack. The kitchen was his next stop, and Santino came in to join him as he was putting on water for tea. "Do you like hot tea? It's very soothing." 

Santino nodded in a non-committal fashion and echoed with a similar grunt, but it wasn't a screech of protest and so he continued. Silence fell for a full two or three minutes before Santino finally broke it with a heavy sigh that sounded like it came from his gut. "I can't believe it's over." 

Tim wasn't sure if he was referring to the competition or the chance for a career, although he was fairly certain it was the first of the two. Even Santino couldn't be down enough on himself to believe it was the end of the road. Tim would hire him in a hot second if he had a position to offer. "But think of all the open doors now, Santino. Every ending road leads to another, even if you have to be creative and go off the beaten path." He poured the tea into two cups that he took down from the cabinet, sliding one gently across the counter towards Santino, nodding to the tins of sugar that sat in front of them. "Your collection was stunning, and I hope you're extremely proud of it, no matter what was said on that runway."

"It's hard to be proud when they took my… life… months of hard work, my blood, sweat and tears… and just dismissed it. How can I be proud of that?" His words were delivered down to the tea in his cup, as though it would spring forth with an answer for his question. Tim almost wished that it would, so that he'd be spared the chance of saying the wrong thing.

"I'm proud of it. I'm proud of you." In those words, Tim didn't feel like just someone spouting lines to get a contestant back in line, and he hoped Santino didn't view it in such a manner either. It was heartfelt and honest, and they were words he'd desperately wanted to hear come out of the judges' mouths. 

Santino looked up from his tea then, looking at Tim for a few long moments before blowing on the steam from his tea and taking a drink. Tim watched him close his eyes for a second, a tumult of emotions playing across his face without a word being spoken. In that moment alone, Tim saw more raw emotion from Santino than he had throughout the entire competition, and his urge to hold the man and cradle and comfort him became more than just an idea in his head. It was a desperate urge, and he moved across the counter space to pull Santino into his arms. It wasn't the same hug they'd shared before, which was evident in the fact that Santino's arms didn't wrap around Tim, but clung to his shirt front instead. He felt the younger man crumple against him, and honest tears spilled forth against his chest. Shoulders that Tim was desperately trying to soothe and stroke shook beneath his hands, and the quiet sounds that filled his kitchen quietly tore apart his heart and brought him very close to tears himself.

When Santino grew quiet against him, Tim almost reluctantly loosened his grip and took to running his hands up and down Santino's arms, soothing out the last of the small sniffs that followed what must have been a very cathartic cry. He had been expecting such a release, although his own reaction to it had been a bit unexpected, and he dabbed at a bit of moisture from the corners of his own eyes. He'd have his own cry later for Santino, for this beautiful disaster that he wished he could hold in his hands and fix, but now wasn't the time.

"Come… let's get you to lay down." Santino had been on his feet far too much in the past couple of days, and the exhaustion was palpable. Instead of veering Santino toward the guest bedroom, he found himself leading the man immediately into his own bedroom. Upon reaching the doorway and realizing what he'd done, the same paralyzing fear that he'd often felt upon bringing men home rose up in his throat again. This wasn't just a man, this wasn't some half-hearted attempt at a date, this was Santino. His Santino -- someone who very much needed comfort and attention. This was different. This wasn't anything to be afraid of. He certainly didn't want Santino to think that he wasn't welcome in his home, and so he pushed aside all doubt and led him the rest of the way into the bedroom. "Shoes off." 

"This isn't my room," Santino mumbled, but he didn't protest otherwise. He flopped heavily onto the bed and untied his shoes, kicking them off before stretching out onto his back, his eyes closed. Tim had to wonder if that was a self-preservation technique as well, to keep from looking Tim in the eye after such a personal and vulnerable breakdown in the kitchen. Tim sat on the corner of the bed and took off his own shoes, although now he was wondering whether or not he should get up and go sleep in the guest room for the night. It seemed the best course of action and he got up with just one lingering touch to Santino's lower leg and made his way to the door. He was halfway out when Santino's voice spoke up again. "Where are you going?"

It was such a small voice that Tim wasn't sure how it had possibly come from the larger than life Santino, and it stopped him in his tracks. When he turned back, he saw that Santino had opened his eyes, and their gazes met and locked quietly for a moment. Tim was battling with himself internally, and he wasn't sure how to convey that inner dialogue to Santino in a way that made sense. He was trepidatious about things that Santino had no real control over, and he didn't see how spilling his story over being hurt by a man in the past would be relevant. They were different men, different situations entirely, and Santino wasn't looking for someone to love him in any other way than platonically. Tim could do platonic. It was all he could do. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, pausing in the doorway for only a moment before going back to the bed and climbing up onto it next to Santino.

There was a shift, and Tim had a long and very warm body nuzzled against him wordlessly. Now there was no time left to over think it, because there was no way he was going to abandon Santino when it was clear his presence was wanted. There was no one else here in New York to play this role for Santino, and he refused to sit idly by and just hope for the best. He was too pro-active for that, and on the flipside of the coin… he had to admit that it was nice to have the company and to feel needed. He felt useful as a teacher and a worker on a regular basis, but to feel truly needed on a human level had escaped him for longer than he cared to admit. 

"Tim?"

"Hmm?" was about all he could murmur back in response, waiting expectantly to hear what was on Santino's mind.

There was a pause and then, "Why are you single?"

Now there was a question he hadn't expected to hear, but it wasn't one he was unfamiliar with. "That's a very long and boring story, I'm afraid," he said, his hand reaching up to stroke the back of Santino's hair. It felt different than he would have imagined. 

"Tell me." There wasn't so much a command overtone to the words as more one of curiosity, and Tim almost felt like he was being asked to tell a bedtime story. Santino's cheek was resting on his shoulder, but eye contact was being completely avoided, for which he was grateful.

He had no problems with telling the story, even though he tended to make it as brief as possible, but he wasn't sure how comfortable he was discussing it now, in this situation. "Well. There was… this man that I was with, and who I loved very much. He treated me in a less than kind manner, and I've been a bit wary of relationships since." A bit wary was more than putting it lightly, but there was no need to divulge the dirty details, at least not all at once. He wasn't opposed to confiding in friends, especially those who confided in him, but it was a difficult story to tell, and it still made him quite emotional, even many years later.

"How did he treat you?" There was a concerned tone in Santino's voice that touched Tim and made him smile, and his answer came a bit more freely as a result.

"He was unfaithful," he answered after a beat, his fingers lightly plucking at Santino's hair, wrapping around a curl as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Santino shifted up a little bit so that his head was no longer on Tim's shoulder, but instead level with Tim's own head. His eyes were serious, although not as sad and empty as Tim had seen them earlier at Parsons. "He's a dick." And that was that. No more elaboration, just simple fact as viewed by Santino. His head was resting on the pillow next to Tim's, and the little smile that was on his face now was more than a little disconcerting. 

"I won't disagree with that," Tim responded with a chuckle. He was well past the point where he justified his ex-partner's actions and tried to reason them away. It had never been in his nature to be unfaithful, and he wasn't going to pretend to understand the people who were.

There was a quiet lull in the conversation until Santino finally looked back up and focused stunning green eyes on Tim's. "Why are you taking care of me?"

He wasn't sure how to approach the question, and it took him a moment to figure out what angle it was being asked from. In the end, he decided for simple honesty, and he felt very sincere in saying, "Because everyone needs someone."

"Even you?" Santino fired back without missing a beat.

"Even me," he answered with a nod, wondering where this particular line of questioning was going.

Santino was thoughtful for a moment before moving his hand from where it had unconsciously rested on Tim's stomach, placing it higher up on his chest instead. "Who's taking care of you, Tim?"

"I have a few very close friends," he answered quietly, feeling his hand start to stroke over Santino's back almost of its own volition. He wasn't quite sure how the subject switched to him, but whatever kept the other man from wallowing was encouraging to him.

"Am I one of them?" 

There was an almost child-like hope in Santino's eyes, and it was frankly one that he hadn't been expecting to see. His smile softened immediately and he nodded before offering a verbal confirmation. "I think you and I have a very special relationship," he said honestly, finally voicing the feeling he'd had for months.

"Tim." It was just his name, and he'd heard it said a thousand times, even from those lips, but this time it was different. There was something in Santino's voice that sent up red flashing lights of danger this time, but he quickly flipped the switch on those lights in favor of seeing what would come next. "You can kick me in the balls if you want…" and that was all the warning he got before Santino's face wasn't just close, but their lips were pressed together. Oh god, the red danger lights were flashing again, and he felt torn between so many different parts of himself, and he wasn't sure which one to respond to first. There was the obvious thought of 'what are we doing?' followed by the 'I can't be doing this', which led into 'but god, this is fantastic', and that's where he stayed for the time being. He just let the kiss be exactly what it was -- a gesture of comfort and appreciation, but it was obvious after a few moments that it wasn't going to stay that way for long.

Santino shifted closer, and Tim was too overwhelmed to do anything other than allow it to happen, even as the silent guilt that occurred any time he was put into this position came into play. Santino wasn't the only one who came with emotional baggage, but if he was willing to leave that at the door for a moment… well then dammit, so was Tim. Instead of simply allowing the kiss to happen, he found himself responding to it and almost craving the contact. This was a level of intimacy that he had only briefly allowed his mind to visit the possibility of, and there was something much more personal to him about kissing than anything else in the sexual spectrum. For him, kissing someone meant baring his soul and laying it all out on the line, and it frankly terrified him to be having such an exchange with someone who seemed to be treating it in the same manner.

He felt more of Santino's fear and vulnerability in this kiss than he'd felt in their embrace in the kitchen, and he found his hands clinging to the fabric of Santino's shirt as the kiss deepened. It was heady and dizzying, and he wasn't sure if it was fear telling him to break away or the simple need for oxygen, but he broke the kiss with a gasp, feeling thoroughly ashamed of himself instantly. If he was a blushing man, he had a feeling his cheeks would have been on fire, and he kept his head lowered to avoid eye contact. His grip on Santino's shirt didn't loosen, nor did Santino's grip on his. It was a mutual clinging, and he figured that they were both a little alarmed by this new development, and neither was completely sure how to approach it now that it was out in the open.

"I'm sorry," Santino whispered, and the same broken tone was creeping into his voice again, which made Tim's gaze snap up instantly to look at him.

"No… no, don't do that. It's okay. It's… okay." It wasn't really okay, in the sense that he was worried about what this was going to do to their relationship, and the fact that the single kiss had stirred up feelings that he'd desperately been trying to suppress ever since visiting Santino in California, and perhaps even before. He knew he was incapable of holding a relationship, and he knew that Santino's life was going to take him away from Tim and New York. It was inevitable, and he could just kick himself for getting this deep into it to begin with. 

"I wouldn't do those things to you, Tim." 

It hurt to hear. It hurt because he hadn't wanted this to become about him, and it hurt because he didn't want to hear Santino say those things. He didn't want an offer to be made or a potential relationship discussed. He couldn't offer anything other than friendship and a pair of arms when the going got tough, and he sincerely hoped that Santino wasn't vulnerable enough to let this be another crack in his shell, another chip against his heart. "Santino…" He didn't know what to follow that up with, how to even begin to tell this beautiful creature who he loved so divinely that his feelings were ones that would never fully be recognized.

"Don't," Santino interrupted, shifting closer to Tim once again and catching his lips in another kiss that left him breathless and clinging, and this time more than a little shaken physically. From the waist down was saying 'oh please, get closer', but his mind was telling him to back up at warp speed. "Just lie to me tonight, Tim. And let me lie to you."

His heart was racing, breaking, shaking, but he took a deep breath and melted into another kiss, and it was the only answer he could give Santino. He had his reservations, but a deeper part of him was saying that they needed this moment and that they should embrace it while it was there. When Santino broke the kiss, he almost voiced something akin to disappointment, but Santino was simply plucking Tim's glasses from his face and setting them aside, and even though the world shifted to the blurry side, he was almost grateful for that. The kiss that followed was much deeper and more passionate than the two before, and Tim shifted onto his side so that their bodies could press together without either man being the less dominant of the two. Hands were fumbling now over zippers and buttons, pushing at fabric in a race against their consciences. Tim could feel Santino hardening against his thigh, and he let out a shaky sigh into his mouth because dear lord, how long had it been since he'd let anything get to this stage? "Just lie to me tonight, Tim. And let me lie to you." More appropriate words could not have been spoken.

He almost wavered when Santino's boxers were kicked down and off, because suddenly this was very real and he was very scared. Not of the male body by any stretch of the imagination, but that this little hurt/comfort scenario had reversed roles somewhere along the way, back and forth so much that he wasn't sure who was hurting and who was comforting. It was a whole lot of both, so much so that it was overwhelming him and building up to a fever pitch inside of him, sparking a tension that just so happened to be pooling down south of the beltline, enhanced by Santino's hands that seemed to know exactly the right places to touch to make him forget about over-thinking. 

Together, stretched out on their sides, their bodies molded together and the thrusting that resulted left them both shivering and showering one another with kisses, everywhere that could possibly be reached was. It had been so long and his emotions were so strong that Tim couldn't restrain himself for long, and all it took were several rolls of Santino's experienced hips and a little help from his hand to bring Tim directly over the edge. Santino followed quickly with a soft and very uncharacteristic whimper, his lips latching to Tim's as a shivering climax hit him as well. Breathing hard and more than a little unsteady, Tim buried his face in Santino's neck and ignored the pooling warmth between them for as long as he could before it started to bother him. 

With a quick kiss to Santino's cheek, he found his glasses and put them back on, slipping out of the bed and paying no attention to his nudity as he disappeared into the bathroom and came back out a moment later with something soft and damp to clean them up. In keeping with the theme of caring for the younger man, he cleaned both of them without passing the cloth to Santino, and then took it back into the bathroom -- out of sight, out of mind. He was almost afraid to look at Santino as he moved back onto the bed, quickly tugging the blankets down so that they could both slip underneath them. Their clothes were strewn about the bedroom floor in a way Tim had not seen any laying about for far longer than he cared to recount. 

"Goodnight, Tim," was all he got verbally out of Santino before he was rolling away from Tim, turning his back on him. To be honest, it stung for a second, but before he had a chance to really process it, Santino looked back over his shoulder at him and nodded a little to gesture him closer. Tim took off his glasses without a word and spooned himself against Santino's taller frame, wrapping an arm around his waist and settling comfortably. 

"Goodnight, Santino." He would deal with the emotional backlash in the morning, but for right now, they were still lying. They were still playing make-believe and pretending that the morning would bring more sweet kisses and tentative plans for a future they'd never have. 

"My collection was fucking hot," Santino murmured, fatigue obviously getting the better of him. Tim could envision his lids reluctantly drooping, and it only endeared him to the man even more.

There was no denying the truth of his words, and Tim smiled against his shoulder blade. "Indeed." A beat was missed, and then he continued. "Let's not tell Andrae about this."

Santino fell asleep chuckling.


End file.
